Redemption
by Esther Huffleclaw
Summary: The thought of darkness was disquieting, like a half-remembered nightmare; and yet, there was something—something he should remember. He tried to grasp it, but it slipped from his fingers, lost in the dazzling light.
1. Like Looking Into the Sun

**Chapter 1: Like Looking Into the Sun**

"Are you sure about this, Luke?" Leia eyed the closed door warily. Behind that one flimsy barrier, her father lay in a deep healing trance, repairing the damage done to him when he destroyed his master to save his son, her brother. She still had trouble accepting that he was her father. This was the man who had stood beside Tarkin while she was tortured, who had destroyed her world. "It isn't like there's a button you can press that turns off the dark side," she continued. "He was Sith for years." She turned to her brother; he was so full of joy, he was practically glowing. It was like looking into the sun.

"I could feel the conflict within him, Leia," he said. "And I felt the darkness leave him." He was standing perfectly still in the middle of the tiny room, but there was an impression of constant motion, almost as if he were dancing with joy.

She blinked and looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. She had never before suffered from claustrophobia, but the room seemed too small to contain Luke's elation, and she felt that she could be swept up and lost in the tempest of his delight. She had never seen him like this before, and she was almost afraid of the power he was radiating. He did seem completely in control of himself, though. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Luke, but I cannot trust him—not yet." She closed her eyes, once again seeing the silent explosion—the hauntingly beautiful, brilliant colours against the black of space—as everything she had known was wiped out forever. Tears stung her eyes, but she held them back; she was not yet ready to weep for those she had lost in that conflagration.

Luke put his gloved hand on her shoulder—the robotic hand that was a constant reminder of what that man had done to him—and squeezed gently. "I know," he said quietly. "I hated him too; I believed he had killed my father."

She met his eyes, and hers were wet with the tears she wouldn't allow herself to shed. Her voice was choked. "I know I shouldn't hate him," she whispered. "But I can't help it."

Luke pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. She rested her cheek on his black-clothed shoulder and willed that some of his serenity would transfer to her.

* * *

Shadows were growing under the trees as night fell over Endor. Leia watched the preparations for tonight's celebration without really seeing them. She felt distant, removed from the hustle and bustle around her, completely alone. Could she, _should_ she celebrate? It felt like a betrayal to all those lives she had represented as Senator, some of whom had been her family and friends. Nothing could ever bring them back; nothing could ever make it right, no matter what Luke thought with his idealistic dreams.

"Leia?" Startled, she turned to find Han approaching. "Am I interrupting some deep thoughts, Princess?" His familiar smile tilted his lips as he came to stand before her, taking her hands in his.

Rising on tiptoe, she gently brushed his lips with hers. "I was just thinking about Luke," she admitted.

Han shook his head and laughed. "Good thing he's your brother, or I might just have to be jealous." He took a closer look at the expression on her face. "Or maybe not. Has the kid done something to make you mad at him?"

She shook her head and sighed. "Not really." She shrugged helplessly. "He didn't tell you who he brought back from the Death Star, did he?"

Han frowned. "He brought someone back? Anyone I know?"

Withdrawing her hands from Han's grasp, Leia turned away and wrapped her arms around herself. Her voice was so quiet when she answered that Han had to lean toward her to hear. "When Luke fought Vader on Bespin, he learned something that Obi Wan had kept from him: Vader is his father."

A gasp escaped Han's throat. "Luke is Vader's son?" he exclaimed. "I'd never have seen _that_ coming, not in a million years." He shook his head in disbelief, staring into the distance for a moment, then his gaze swung sharply back to Leia. "But—that means...you..." His voice trailed off.

She nodded. "Yes. He's my father too." She hugged herself tighter. "I really don't want to think about that right now."

Han blew out his breath in a gusty sigh. "Wow. Well, yeah. I don't blame you." He caught her eye and one corner of his mouth tilted. "For what it's worth, it makes no difference to me. You're still you."

Something hard and cold inside her started to melt, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. Dismayed, he reached for her, but she pulled back, shaking her head. "I'm okay. I have to tell you what Luke did." Forcing her voice to steady, she stared at his boots while she spoke. "Luke went to the Death Star to save Vader. The emperor tried to turn him to the dark side, but he couldn't, so he was torturing and killing Luke with Force lightning." She twisted her hands together, imagining what it would be like to die in such a manner. "Vader watched for a moment, then grabbed the emperor and threw him down a shaft—killed him." She sighed. "The emperor turned his lightning on Vader, and almost killed him." Meeting Han's eyes, she finished, "Luke brought him back here. He's sleeping inside."

For once, Han was speechless. Shock, horror, and fear swept across his face. Then he managed to choke out, "Vader's_ here_?" He scrubbed a hand over his face and then gestured helplessly, at a loss for words.

"Luke says he's changed, come back from the dark side." Leia shivered, and then met Han's eyes. "I trust Luke, but I cannot trust _him_."

Han reached for her again, and this time she went into his arms, wrapping her own arms around him as well. They stood in silence, comforting each other, lending and giving strength.


	2. Fragments of Nightmare

**Chapter 2: Fragments of Nightmare**

Anakin Skywalker slowly woke, gradually becoming aware of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the presence near him: a brilliant entity radiating so much more pure Force than Anakin had ever felt from another person. Even he had never exuded such unadulterated power; his command of the Force was great, but always clouded slightly by his darker emotions.

The thought of darkness was disquieting, like a half-remembered nightmare; and yet, there was something—something he should remember. He tried to grasp it, but it slipped from his fingers, lost in the dazzling light of whoever it was who was near him. He was now awake enough that he could tell that the source of all that power was in the room with him, sitting beside him.

Curiosity forced his eyes open, searching the room: it was small and bare, with blank grey walls and ceiling. There was barely room between his bed and the wall for the chair on which was seated a tall slim young man with golden hair and clear blue eyes. Anakin studied his face for a moment, knowing immediately that this was the source of the blazing power he felt. He knew this face, and yet he didn't. Those blue eyes that were watching him so intently were intimately familiar to Anakin, yet he couldn't put a name to them.

He turned his head slightly, and the change in the young man was immediate. He leaned forward in his chair, his face breaking into a massive smile. "Father?" He put his hand on Anakin's shoulder and, just like that, Anakin knew his name.

"Luke," he whispered, and was appalled at the sound of his own voice: strained, hoarse, and _old_. He tried to clear his throat, but found he couldn't control those muscles. What had happened to him? He tried to think back, to remember, but again the memories slid away from his questing thoughts, swallowed up by the brilliant glow of power emanating from Luke. He did know his own name, and he knew the name Luke, but he didn't know who Luke _was_.

"How are you feeling?" Luke asked quietly.

"What…happened?" Anakin managed to ask.

"I got us away from the Death Star just as it exploded. We're safe now."

The Death Star? Another disturbing tremor rippled through his memory; the Death Star was part of the nightmare. He forced himself to speak again: "Where—?" But his damaged voice gave out.

Luke understood, however. "We're on the moon of Endor." He gently squeezed Anakin's shoulder. "It's okay; you can rest. We're safe here."

* * *

"Hey, Kid!"

Luke stopped just outside the old Imperial military barracks he was sharing with his father, and turned to face Han. Although he could tell by Han's emotional turmoil what this was about, he said nothing, only smiled in greeting.

"He's in there?" Han stopped and stared at the nondescript building, a mixture of awe and horror on his face.

Luke nodded. "He is."

"Are you crazy?" A shiver ran through Han's body, but he seemed unaware of it. His eyes never left the structure; he stared at the wall like he was trying to see through it.

"Maybe." Luke shook his head. "But I don't think so."

"Look, Kid, I trust your motives; I know you think you can save him." Han rubbed the back of his neck. "Leia told me he's your father. Of course you want to do what you can for him; but he's…he's Darth Vader, for frag's sake!"

"I know," Luke said softly. "But he's also Anakin Skywalker." He put a hand on Han's shoulder. "I have to try, Han."

Han sighed deeply. "I know. Just be careful, okay? And, Luke? We probably shouldn't tell anyone else that _he's_ here, you know?"

Luke nodded thoughtfully. "You're right, of course. Thank you." He smiled and Han was surprised to feel a little of what Leia had tried to explain to him of the brilliance of Luke's power boosted by his joy. He almost had to look away, dazzled.

"Well, yeah. So, I gotta go talk to Chewie. Remember what I said, Kid." Feeling rather awkward now, Han turned and left.

Luke watched him go. Han was right; no one would understand why Vader was here. No one would believe that he had turned from the dark side. Anakin would have to prove himself, maybe over and over. Shaking his head, Luke forced such thoughts away; there was no room for anything else right now except for helping his father to heal. He entered the barracks, reaching out to Anakin as he came.


	3. Darth Vader, For Frag's Sake!

**Chapter 3: Darth Vader, For Frag's Sake!**

For the next few days—or maybe weeks—Anakin drifted in and out of sleep; his body was healing itself through the Force from whatever it was that he had suffered. Sometimes when he awoke, he was alone, sometimes Luke was there, but always he could sense the other's presence nearby. Often, fragments of nightmare would invade his dreams—flashes of death and pain—but they always fled almost immediately, driven away by the glory that was Luke.

Some things Anakin wished he could remember: Luke was clearly important to him. Other things, the nightmare flashes, he was glad to forget. But something told him that in order to remember the good, he must deal with the bad as well. Not now, though; there would be time later, once his body was strong again.

At times he thought he sensed another presence near him—weaker than Luke, yet still strong in the Force. He could not be sure, though, as Luke was so powerful it was impossible to focus on anyone else and he never actually saw anyone but Luke. No one else was ever in his room, at least not while he was awake.

* * *

One morning, when he awoke, Anakin decided that he had been lying in bed for long enough. Luke was not there, but he should be strong enough to get up on his own. This, however, was not as easy as he thought it would be.

First, he tried to sit up. As his head and shoulders rose, though, a wave of dizziness washed over him and he fell back. With a groan, he put his hands to his head, and met the unyielding surface of a metal...something. "What the—?" He explored the contours of the mask that completely covered his face, marveling at the workmanship, and wondering how he had missed noticing that it was there. Somehow, it felt normal, familiar; yet at the same time, he had no real memory of why he would be wearing such a thing. Feeling for the edges, he discovered that it wrapped around the back of his head too, making a complete helmet.

"Father?" Anakin had been so focused that he hadn't heard the door open. Luke entered the room and asked, "Are you all right? Were you trying to sit up?" He closed the door behind him and stood by the bedside. "How are you feeling today?"

His hands still on the mask, Anakin asked, "What is this? Why am I wearing this?" It was much easier to speak now; his voice was clear and his throat no longer hurt.

Luke sat down on the edge of the mattress. "It's a breathing mask. I'm hopeful that I can help you to heal your lungs enough that you will eventually no longer need it."

"Is there a part of me that wasn't injured?" Anakin meant the question to be humourous, but the mask caused it to come out sounding flat and unemotional.

Luke caught the humour though, and laughed gently. Sometimes it seemed the young man could read his mind. At times like this, he'd almost think Luke was related to him—and he called him "Father." How much time had he lost? It felt like days, or maybe weeks, but what if it was years? He remembered no family save his stepbrother, his stepfather, and his mother… A wave of grief and pain washed over him, and he would have doubled over if he'd been upright. He could hear Luke's worried voice through the roaring in his ears, but all he could see was the dead: his mother, the sandpeople who had killed her, hundreds of faceless Jedi, and others, so many others, bodies stretching for as far as he could see. "I killed them. I killed them all. They're dead; every single one of them. Not just the men, but the women and children too…"

A blaze of light rushed through his soul, washing away the images of death and bringing him back to the present. Luke was leaning over with his hands on Anakin's shoulders, his face inches from Anakin's mask. "Father!" he called. "Anakin Skywalker!"

With an effort, Anakin focused on Luke. "Was that—? Did I—? No. No." He shook his head and tried to sit up again, but Luke easily held him down. Letting his body go limp, he met Luke's eyes. Trying to distract himself from the horror in his mind, he asked, "Why do you call me 'Father'?"

Releasing him and sitting back, Luke replied, "Because you are my father."

Stunned, Anakin studied Luke's face. Now that he was looking for it, he could see Padmé in Luke, and himself as well. He raised his hand to touch his son's face, tears filling his eyes. "Did you know," he whispered, "they said I was to bring balance to the Force?" His fingers trembled, and Luke took them between his hands and gently squeezed. "Maybe they meant you."

* * *

Leia fell to her knees in the mud and grass, her arms wrapped around her middle. Han ran to her side, going to one knee beside her. Tears were streaming down her face as she rocked back and forth sobbing.

"Leia?" He put a hand on her arm. "What is it? What's wrong?"

She reached out blindly and he took her hand. She held on as if she was drowning and he had tossed her a rope. "So much pain," she whispered. "So much pain."

Although it was uncomfortably hot, she was shivering. "Leia? What's _wrong_?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know." She was squeezing his hand so hard it hurt, but he kept silent. She needed him, and he would not disappoint her again.

Just as suddenly as it began, the fit left her, and she released his hand to wipe her eyes. He surreptitiously flexed his fingers to regain feeling, marveling at her strength.

"Luke told me that I am Force sensitive, but I've never experienced anything like that. Not even when Alderaan was destroyed." Her voice broke. "Either my senses are getting sharper, or that was very close." She met his eyes. "Luke," she whispered. And they were on their feet, running.


	4. How Can You Not Hate Me?

**Chapter 4: How Can You Not Hate Me?**

Luke stood and turned toward the door as it opened. He had become aware of Han and Leia's fear and concern once his father had calmed. He had considered going out to meet them, but decided against it. They hadn't yet seen or spoken to Anakin, and it would be good for them to see there was nothing to fear from him.

The door burst open, and Han stepped through blaster first. He was brought up short by Luke standing calmly yet firmly in the way. Realizing he was pointing his weapon directly at his friend, Han's hand wavered.

"Luke?" Leia craned her neck to see around Han. "Are you okay?" Her voice was full of concern.

"I'm fine." Luke nodded toward Han's pistol. "I don't really like that thing pointing at me though."

Han blinked. He looked down at his blaster as if wondering where it had come from. "Sorry." He lowered his hand until the barrel was aimed at the floor. Luke took note that he did not holster it—clearly Han was not convinced there was no danger.

"What happened?" Han was all business now, no longer hesitant. "Leia felt something that really hurt her."

"Leia?" Luke hadn't realized she would be sensitive enough to feel Anakin's pain. The blood she shared with Anakin must have accentuated her senses.

"I'm sorry," Anakin's mechanical voice startled them all, "for…everything." Although the augmented voice didn't exhibit emotion, Luke could easily feel his grief at the pain he had caused her. From the expression on her face, he guessed Leia could feel it too.

"That was _you_ I felt," she whispered, pushing past Han to stand by the bedside.

Anakin turned his head toward her. "Can you ever forgive me?"

She winced at the raw pain emanating from him, but shook her head. "Maybe. Someday." She looked away. "I'm sorry." Pushing past Han, she fled the room.

With a helpless shrug, Han followed her.

* * *

Anakin watched as Leia Organa left. She was the second source of power he had often felt since waking. Untrained though she was, she was nearly as powerful as Luke, despite the fact that her light was dimmed right now by the hatred she harboured for Darth Vader.

How had he never seen it before? With a pained grimace, he admitted silently that it was a mercy he hadn't realized her abilities while she was his prisoner on the Death Star. Though he had often wondered how she had endured all they had done to her.

It was strange: although they had merely known each other in the Senate and then only in passing until he had arrested her, she seemed eerily familiar to him, almost as familiar as did Luke. Who was she? Had he remembered everything, or was there more?

He turned toward his son and attempted to put his confusion into words. "I feel like I know her. Or that I should."

Luke sighed. "Leia is my sister." He smiled. "We're twins."

Twins. How had he not known Padmé was carrying two? His eyes burned, unaccustomed to the tears that were forming. Not only had he killed so many innocents, but he had maimed his son and tortured his daughter. "How can you not hate me?"

"It is not in me to hate my father." Luke put his hand on Anakin's forearm, his love so radiant it was nearly blinding.

* * *

Days passed, and Anakin could barely sense Leia, and then only if he concentrated. It seemed she was staying as far away as possible. Although it hurt him, he couldn't blame her. He had brought nothing but pain into her life since her birth. Determined to make amends if possible, and knowing he couldn't begin the attempt from his sickbed, he pushed himself to recover quickly.

About a week after seeing Leia, Anakin finally rose. He sat on the edge of the mattress for a moment, gathering his strength, then pushed himself to his feet. He wasn't used to feeling so helpless. Luke hovered nearby, ready to help if necessary. The low ceiling almost touched the top of the helmet, and suddenly the room was too small. He turned toward the door, and Luke—anticipating his desire—opened it. Anakin slowly walked outside into the light. Standing beside his son, he felt a surge of hope. If Luke believed in him, how could anything be impossible?


	5. Imagine the Panic

**Chapter 5: Imagine the Panic**

"You must be joking." Leia stepped forward and stood toe to toe with her brother, her head tilted up to look him in the eye, incredulous. "Even if you're right about him, imagine the panic he would cause."

Many had quailed before her glare, but Luke stood his ground. "He can't hide forever, Leia. If we don't tell everyone he's here, they'll still find out eventually. Imagine the panic _that_ would cause."

"Well, yes," she reluctantly admitted. "That would be worse, of course." Panic? More like utter chaos. She shivered at the thought.

Luke gently took hold of her upper arms. "Trust me, Leia. I'm sure I can do this without causing undue alarm."

"How?" Leia's stare hardened again. "Will you use the Force?" She had seen him do it once or twice: he told someone what to do or think, and they obeyed. She shivered at the thought of losing control of her will like that.

He dropped his hands and looked down at the soft grass beneath their feet. "Only if I must." He met her eyes again. "I would never try to take control of your mind, Leia."

"Blast it, Luke! Stop reading my thoughts!" She turned her back on him and strode away, needing some distance. As if distance would stop him from reading her.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I can't help it. I always hear you."

She sighed in defeat. How could she demand such a thing? It was like asking him not to breathe. She knew what it was like, after all. "I hear you, too," she said under her breath, knowing he would hear it, and also hear the apology that she couldn't put into words.

* * *

Endor's sun was rising over the trees as Luke stood before the assembled rebels in the meadow where, only a short time before, they had celebrated the end of the Empire. He could feel their curiosity and, in some cases, annoyance. They had been called here from important tasks without any explanation. He stepped up onto a makeshift dais and raised his hands; instantly, those nearest him quieted, and nudged their neighbours, sparking a wave of respectful silence that washed over all those gathered.

Letting his eyes wander over the faces turned towards him, Luke began. He had no plan of what to say; he spoke from the heart and let the Force guide him.

"My name is Luke Skywalker, son of Anakin Skywalker." A few heads nodded, and he could sense their confusion: why was he telling them this? "My father was a Jedi Knight in the Old Republic, at the time when the Emperor first took power." Some of his listeners leaned forward, interested; some sat back and folded their arms, bored.

"Some of you are Force sensitive, yet untrained. With training, you could learn to touch the Force, maybe become Jedi."

There was more interest now, as everyone in the room considered the possibility that he or she might have that elusive quality that allowed one to touch the Force. He gave them a moment, then continued, "However, there are two sides to the Force, and the dark side can be very seductive, even to one who has trained for his whole life. The Force whispers to you constantly, connecting you with everything around you, but the dark side promises unlimited power and pretends to be an answer to all of your problems."

He paused again. They were hanging on every word now, transfixed by the tale he spun. "My father is very strong in the Force. But he was not immune to the allure of the dark side." He closed his eyes and bowed his head, feeling the ghostly pain of Anakin's memories rush through him once again. For the span of several heartbeats, silence reigned; some of the rebels even held their breath.

When he continued, Luke's voice was little more than a whisper, for he was almost reluctant to speak at all. "Anakin Skywalker fell. The darkness consumed him. His masters thought him lost forever." Raising his head, Luke smiled, allowing his joy to shine forth so that even those with no sensitivity to the Force could see it. "The Jedi of the Old Republic believed there was no hope for him, but just as someone can turn from the light to the dark, so too can someone turn from the dark to the light."

Murmurings and mutterings sprang up all over the crowd. Luke raised his voice: "I believed my father dead, for I was told that Darth Vader murdered him. That was a perversion of the truth however, for Anakin Skywalker had become Darth Vader."

The rebels erupted; many of them leapt to their feet shouting questions and concerns, while some sat in stunned silence. While he couldn't make out the words through the din, Luke could easily pick up the fear behind them. He raised his hands, and slowly quiet fell once again.

As he lowered his hands and opened his mouth to speak, a voice called out, "If Darth Vader is your father, what's to keep you from falling to the dark side as well?"

Luke sighed softly, unsure how to answer. He had once declared, "I'll never turn to the dark side," but that would sound arrogant to these ears. He knew that he would never go down that path, but how could he prove that to them?

Another voice spoke up: "Is that why you gathered us here? To warn us you might become the next Darth Vader?"

"No." Luke glanced to his right where Leia and Han stood as if guarding the door of the barracks. "I called you here to tell you that Anakin Skywalker turned back to the light and I brought him here."

"Here?!" The one word exploded from several throats at once, followed by a confusion of protest. This time, they were all on their feet, and some reached for blasters, looking around as if Vader might pop up anywhere and attack them. Luke and Han exchanged a wry look, remembering Han's similar reaction.

Turning back to the assembly, Luke raised his hands again. This time, silence did not come so easily. It seemed they weren't ready to trust his word that Anakin was no longer Vader. He caught scraps of questions asking if he had already turned to the dark side, and if he had brought the Emperor here as well.

Then, one of the nearer men stepped toward Luke, his blaster half out of his holster. Luke felt the threat through the Force, and put his hand on his lightsaber, ready to defend himself. He didn't get the chance. The doors behind Leia and Han flew open, forcing them to leap aside, and Anakin strode through, his black cape swirling around him. His gauntleted hand was raised as he bore down on the hapless rebel who threatened his son.

For an instant time seemed to stretch and slow while everyone helplessly watched. Anakin's target froze, an expression of terror on his face. Han and Leia scrambled to their feet in a panic, but were too far away to do anything. Only Luke remained serene, for he could read his father's intentions; while everyone else assumed he was about to attack, and probably kill, Luke knew better.

A shimmering, translucent barrier came into being just in front of Luke, and Anakin stopped beside him. He placed his free hand on Luke's shoulder, his other hand still held before him, maintaining the Force barrier.

Leia strode past them, and stood toe to toe with the man who had threatened her brother. "Just what do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "We have enough enemies without fighting amongst ourselves. The Emperor may be dead, but the Empire is far from defeated." She gestured toward Luke and Anakin. "Do you see that? He defends, rather than attacking you—which he would have been justified in doing. That is the reaction of a Jedi, not a Sith."

She wasn't as sure of Anakin as she sounded, but she was making it very clear to all that she trusted Luke and he sent a wave of gratitude toward her. She was right. They had enough enemies without turning on each other.


	6. I Don't Have to Answer to You Pretty Boy

**Chapter 6: I Don't Have to Answer to You, Pretty Boy**

Endor's sun was just rising over the trees while Luke and Anakin sat cross-legged on the grass facing each other, meditating. A warmth began to grow within Anakin's chest as Luke reached out through the Force to touch his damaged lungs. It grew and spread until the heat was almost uncomfortable, but Anakin didn't protest. He sat very still, concentrating on his breathing, praying that Luke would be successful. He was so tired of wearing the mask.

A piercing siren interrupted them, breaking their concentration. Anakin sighed in disappointment as the warmth faded. He and Luke sprinted towards the main buildings.

They emerged from the forest into panic and chaos: rebels were running in all directions, and at first it was impossible to see the reason for the uproar. Then Luke pointed to the right, and shouted, "There!" The flash of a red lightsaber blade made Anakin's blood run cold.

Luke took off running, and Anakin followed close behind. A dark Force user here? But who could it be? Then it hit him, and he stumbled, barely keeping his feet. He had forgotten the Emperor's Hand.

And yes, it was her. Red hair flaming in the early morning sun, red blade pointed at—his heart almost stopped—Leia! His daughter stood unflinching, looking down her nose at one of the most dangerous people in the galaxy: Mara Jade, the Hand of the Emperor. Han stood behind Leia, his hand hovering near his blaster.

"I will tell you nothing!" Leia's voice was imperious, and Anakin was powerfully reminded of Padmé.

His heart clenched and, without even thinking, he raised his hand and pushed with the Force. The red-haired assassin was caught off-guard, and she lurched back away from Leia, almost falling. Anyone else would have lost their footing completely, but the Emperor's Hand had been trained in more than the use of the Force; she was proficient in several styles of combat, and comfortable with the use of many different weapons. She was one of a very few people Darth Vader had respected.

Now she turned those intense green eyes on him, and they widened in shock. "What are _you_ doing here?" she demanded.

Luke stepped forward. "Who are you? What do you want?"

She sneered at him. "I don't have to answer to you, pretty boy. Just tell me where Luke Skywalker is, and the rest of you can do whatever the frack you want."

"I'm Luke Skywalker."

She looked him up and down with interest. "Is that so? I thought you'd be taller."

Anakin unhooked his lightsaber from his belt but didn't activate it yet, hoping it wouldn't be necessary. "What do you want with Luke?"

She turned back toward him and frowned. "He killed the Emperor. Why haven't you dispensed justice already?"

"He didn't kill the Emperor. I did."

"I see. Well, that changes things." She raised her blade. "I would suggest that you submit to justice."

"What justice?" Leia demanded. "Palpatine deserved death many times over for his crimes."

"Who are you to decide that?" Mara demanded. "Besides, by that logic, Lord Vader also deserves death several times over."

"But Darth Vader _is_ dead," Luke said, putting his hand on his father's shoulder. "The man before you is Anakin Skywalker." Luke was so earnest and sincere, as though he actually expected her to accept what he said.

Mara narrowed her eyes. "It makes no difference to me. Stand aside and I won't have to kill you too."

"I'm sorry." Luke activated his lightsaber, the green blade coming up into a defensive position. "I can't do that."

Anakin's stomach clenched. "No!" He stepped forward, his own red blade extending. "Let me handle this, Luke."

Luke smiled, and Mara raised a hand as if to shade her eyes from the blaze of light. Anakin almost did the same. Every time he thought he had gotten used to Luke's radiance, something like this happened, reminding him of how incredibly powerful his son really was.

"That isn't how it works, Father," Luke said. "We stand together."

Mara gaped at them, then grinned and shook her head. "Oh, this is rich. The Sith Lord is a daddy." She passed her lightsaber from her right hand to her left, and stretched out her right towards Luke. "Sorry, pretty boy. Nothing personal." Lightning burst from her fingertips, and Anakin's heart nearly stopped. Once again, he watched that deadly electricity reach out towards his son.

To Anakin's relief, Luke managed to block with his lightsaber, catching the energy on the emerald blade, which sparked madly as it absorbed the onslaught. Anakin stepped forward to intervene, but Luke put a hand out as if to stop him. "Father, no! You haven't completely recovered from last time."

Before he could think what to do, Anakin was surprised at the sound of a blaster shot. Mara's eyes went wide, and she crumpled to the ground, her lightsaber falling beside her. He reached out with the Force and caught it before the blade could touch anything. Bringing it back to his hand, he deactivated it.

Luke knelt at Mara's side and checked for a pulse. "She's alive." He stood and turned to where Han was putting away his blaster.

"Of course she is," Han said with a grin. "I'm an excellent shot."

* * *

_**A/N: For those unfamiliar with the Star Wars extended universe novels: I didn't invent Mara Jade. Look her up on Wookiepedia for more info.**_


	7. Unarmed and Unafraid

**Chapter 7: Unarmed and Unafraid**

She woke immediately, instantly alert. Without opening her eyes, she took stock of her situation. She seemed uninjured, which was strange as she distinctly remembered the blaster shot that had slipped through her defenses and taken her down. Anger welled up at that, and she allowed it for anger gave her strength. She would settle things with that cocky pilot after she dealt with Lord Vader.

Looking deeper, she discovered the unmistakable signature of a Force healing. So that's why there was no pain. But who would heal her? Despite having only limited contact with Lord Vader in the past, she was familiar enough with his Force signature to be certain that it hadn't been him. That meant Luke Skywalker had done it. Now, there was an enigma.

When reports of the Force-sensitive Rebel had first begun to arrive on Coruscant, Mara had been vaguely interested, but too busy with her duties to really pay attention. However, when the Emperor had decided to try to turn the boy, she had taken notice. Rumour was that there could be only two Sith at a time—a Master and an Apprentice—so it followed that Vader's days were numbered. But it had all been a plot: father and son had conspired to take over—or take down—the Empire. How had the great Sith Master not seen this coming? He must have known that Skywalker was Vader's son. How could he have misjudged things so completely? She shook her head violently. It didn't matter. It was not her place to question her Master. She only did his bidding, and—now he was gone—she could but avenge him.

She could hear distant sounds of activity and, nearer, the unmistakable wheezing of Lord Vader's respirator. She could feel his watchfulness through the Force, and she smiled. It seemed he was her guard. Well, that made things simpler. She wouldn't have to go looking for him. She opened her eyes, and sat up on the edge of the bed. The room was small and bare, which was to be expected: it was a cell after all.

Skywalker's remarkably potent Force presence was some distance away at the moment, which was just as well. Although she wouldn't be so easily distracted a second time, facing Vader alone was preferable. Besides, she had no quarrel with Skywalker unless he interfered again.

There was no way to get out of the cell without Lord Vader's knowledge, and besides, she didn't want to sneak past him; she wanted to confront and kill him. Accordingly, she simply used the Force to fling the door open, ripping it off of its hinges, and sending it skidding down the hall. As expected, Vader's black-cloaked form instantly blocked the now open doorway.

"You are not leaving," he intoned.

"So stop me." She stepped forward, unarmed and unafraid. She needed no weapons to deal with one Sith, even if he drew the lightsaber that hung at his belt.

But he didn't. He faced her empty-handed. And he didn't immediately attempt his signature choke, either. Puzzled, she paused, trying to read his emotions through the Force. He was as unafraid of her as she was of him—no, there was fear there, but not for his own well-being. He feared for someone else. Skywalker, of course. She allowed herself a small smile. She had found his weakness.

However, that didn't explain why he had yet to attack. From what she knew of Lord Vader, his usual method was to kill first and ask questions later. She respected that, having done it herself on many occasions. Now, though, it seemed he wanted her to make the first move, and that made her very suspicious.

Unfortunately, she didn't have time to ponder long, for she sensed Skywalker's unmistakable presence moving closer quickly. Clearly, he had sensed either the energy that had blasted the door or the tension between her and Vader, or possibly both. No, probably both. The boy was exceptionally strong in the Force. If he could be convinced to work with her rather than against—but he was clearly very protective of his father, and she couldn't let Vader get away with murdering her Master. Unfortunately, she would likely have to kill Skywalker as well.

Maybe that was Vader's plan: to delay her until his son arrived. There was no reason to face the two of them together, though. Her skills were formidable, but so were theirs. She had found that the easiest route was usually the best one. It was time to avenge her Master's death.


End file.
